
THE Pfc. 



BUSHING COnPANY 



Successful Rural Plays 

A Strong List From Which to Select Your 
Next Play 

FARM FOLKS. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur 
JUEWis Tubes. For five male and six female characters. Time 
of playing, two hours and a half. One simple exterior, two 
easy interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Flora Goodwin, a 
farmer's daughter, is engaged to Philip Burleigh, a young New 
Yorker. Philips mother wants him to marry a society woman, 
and by falsehoods makes Flora believe Philip does not love her. 
Dave Weston, who wants Flora himself, helps the deception by 
intercepting a letter from Philip^to Flora. She agrees to marry 
Dave, but on the eve of their marriage Dave confesses, Philip 
learns the truth, and he and Flora are reunited. It is a simple 
plot, but full of speeches and situations that sway an audience 
alternately to tears and to laughter. Price, 25 cents. 

HOME TIES. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur 
Lewis Tubes. Characters, four male, five female. Plays two 
hours and a half. Scene, a simple interior — same for all four 
acts. Costumes, modern. One of the strongest plays Mr. Tubbs 
has v/ritten. Martin Winn's wife left him when his daughter 
Ruth was a baby. Harold Vincent, the nephew and adopted son 
of the man who has wronged Martin, makes love to Ruth Winn. 
She is also loved by Len Everett, a prosperous young farmer. 
When Martin discovers who Harold is, he orders him to leave 
Ruth. Harold, who does not love sincerely, yields. Ruth dis- 
covers she loves Len, but thinks she has lost him also. Then 
he comes back, and Ruth finds her happiness. Price 25 cents. 

THE OLB NEW HAMPSHIRE HOME. A New 

England Drama in Three Acts, by Feiank Dumont. For seven 
males and four females. Time, two hours and a half. Costumes, 
modern. A play with a strong heart interest and pathos, yet rich 
in humor. Easy to act and very effective. A rural drama of 
the "Old Homstead" and "Way Down East" type. Two ex- 
terior scenes, one interior, all easy to set. Full of strong sit- 
uations and delightfully humorous passages. The kind of a play 
everybody understands and likes. Price, 25 cents. 

THE OLD DAIRY HOMESTEAD. A Rural Comedy 
in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For five males and four 
females. Time, two hours, ^ural costumes. Scenes rural ex- 
terior and interior. An arfvf^i^urer obtains a large sum of money 
from a farm house thrpt^gli* the intimidation of the farmer's 
niece, whose husband he* claims to be. Her escapes from the 
wiles of the villain and his female accomplice are both starting 
and novel. Price, 15 cents. 

A WHITE MOUNTAIN BOY. A Strong Melodrama in 
Five Acts, by Charles Townsend. For seven males and four 
females, and three supers. Time, two hours and twenty minutes. 
One exterior, three interiors. Costumes easy. The hero, a 
country lad, twice saves the life of a banker's daughter, which 
results in their betrothal. A scoundrelly clerk has the banker 
in his power, but the White Mountain boy finds a way to check- 
mate his schemes, saves the banker, and wins the girl. Price 
15 cents. 

THE PENN publishing COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 



Romeo of the Rancho 

A Comedy 



By 
JAMES FRANCIS COOKE 




PHILADELPHIA 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1915 



/ 



Copyright 1915 by The Penn Publishing Company 



Romeo of the Rancho ©OLD 41324 

\mL 27 1915 



Romeo of the Rancho 



CHARACTERS 

Mansfield Forrest , ... an old actor 

Rosalind his daughter 

Lucky Lorimer a ranchman 

TUPPER the bell-boy 

Time of playing — Twenty-five minutes. 

STORY OF THE PLAY 

Rosalind and her father, who have been playing Shake- 
speare to *' one-night stands," are stranded in a little West- 
ern town, and don't know where to get a necessary leading 
man or their next meal. But Lucky Lorimer, a '« cow- 
puncher," has been following Rosalind for several hundred 
miles across the continent, and now comes to the rescue. 
He ii^sists on being a real Romeo, wins Rosalind's gratitude 
and something more, and even her father has to say, *' I 
don't think you'll ever get a better engagement, Rosalind.*' 



COSTUMES, ETC. 

Forrest. Seventy. A shabby old suit. He speaks al- 
ways in a stagy, declamatory way. 

Rosalind. Twenty-two. An old skirt and shirt-waist. 

Lucky Lorimer. Thirty. A cowboy's costume of 
flannel shirt, *' chaps," sombrero and handkerchief knotted 
about his neck. 

TupPER. A faded, patched bell-boy's uniform if possible. 
Or he may wear any sort of suit — rather shabby. His 
manner and speech are *' tough." 



PROPERTIES 

For Rosalind, a shirt-waist, some handkerchiefs, pair of 
white gloves, iron ; for Forrest, a battered copy of the 
play, '* Romeo and Juliet," a brass crown, spectacles, ring, 
paper bundles ; for Lucky, revolver, package of sand- 
wiches, bank books ; for Tupper, a letter containing money 
in bills, a small sword, cap and mantle for Romeo's part. 



SCENE PLOT 




SCENE. — A room in a small Western frontier town 
hotel. A clothes-line is stretched, as high as possible, diag- 
onally across the room. Clothes are hung on the ends of 
the line, leaving the middle free so that the door is visible. 
A bed, up R., a washstand, R., and a trunk, L., complete the 
furniture. A poster on the wall announces the opening of 
<* Romeo and Juliet. '* Door, c. A picture of a fat man 
hangs on wall up R. c. 



Romeo of the Rancho 



SCENE. — A hotel bedroo7n, Rosalind standing at the wash- 
stand, R., washing out some clothes, Mansfield Forrest 
perched upon a trunk, l., reading, 

Forrest {draftiatically), 

** If ever you disturb our streets again, 
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. 
For this time, all the rest depart away ; 
You, Capulet, shall go along with me. 
And, Montague, come you this afternoon." 

Rosalind (^pausing at her work). Oh, daddy, how can 
you sit there and read Romeo and Juliet when we haven't 
a cent to get out of this miserable prairie town ? 

Forrest. Don't forget your art, my dear. Some day 
you will be the greatest of all Juliets, greater than Siddons 
or Charlotte Cushman. You will eclipse them all. What 
of a few hours of sacrifice ? Think of your art, my dear, 
think of your art ! 

Rosalind (^holding up a torn shirt-waist, which she is 
washing, and as she does so it rips dow?i the middle). Oh, 
mercy ! Think of my art — when this is the best shirt-waist 
I own ! 

Forrest {pointing to poster). But after we open in 
Leadville, one week from to-night, your fame will reach 
Broadway so quickly that the New York managers will take 
the next express for Colorado. 

Rosalind. It's no use, father, you can't choke Shake- 
speare down the throats of a lot of half-breed Indians and 
wild cowboys. 

Forrest. We must have patience, my dear. 

Rosalind. Patience ? — Say, dad, I've been playing one 
night stands with you ever since mother died, and I'm so 
sick of being tied up for our board in poor hotels that I 
could scream. 



6 ROMEO OF THE RANCHO 

Forrest. Scream 1 I wonder what Edwin Booth would 
say to that. 

Rosalind. I wonder what Edwin Booth would say if he 
knew that we hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday 
noon. 

Forrest. Eat? To be sure, — very true. We have 
neither dined, supped nor breakfasted. But, Rosalind, 
dear, when your biography is written, can't you see those 
lines ? — ** When the great tragedy queen, Rosalind Forrest, 
was young, she was frequently obliged to go without her 
meals for the sake of her art." 

Rosalind {gradually working herself up into a fit of 
great indignation^. Art, art, art ! That's what you always 
told mother. Rehearsing all day and then playing until 
midnight. Living in stuffy old theatres and trying to make 
a lot of cowboys out front understand words they have never 
heard before. Sleeping night after night in the day-coach 
of a bumpy old railroad. Dad, don't you think a woman 
wants more than that ? Don't you think she wants a better 
home than a broken trunk and a fourth-rate hotel ? When- 
ever mother kicked you began preaching about art. Some- 
times I'm almost glad she's gone. 

Forrest {apparently greatly excited and indignant, getting 
doivn from the trunk and walking toward Rosalind, r.). 

Rosalind, — I — 1 — 1 Upon my word, RosaUnd, you 

don't know what this means to me. I {Sputters and 

ejaculates, but finally yields to pride. ^ That's the first 
temperament you have ever really shown. Ye gods, girl, 
what a Lady Macbeth you'll make ! 

Rosalind {clenching her teeth and her fists and groan- 
ing). Macbeth ! Ugggh ! 

Forrest. Your mother was an inspired Lady Mac- 
beth 

Rosalind {ironically). Inspired ? With the sheriff sit- 
ting on her trunk behind the scenes ? 

Forrest {gra7idiloque7itly, moving L., near the trunk). 
That is past, my dear, — we must look to the future. When 
the Mansfield Forrest Shakespearean Aggregation opens in 
Leadville, in the Master's Romeo and Juliet 

Rosalind {in a rage, stamping her foot and shouting). 
But we can't play Romeo and Juliet without a Romeo. 

Forrest {^pacifying her). Tut, tut, there ! To be sure, 
but our new leading man is coming to-day, and I trust that 



ROMEO OF THE RANCHO 7 

he will be above working for mere money like the last one, 
for as the immortal William says in the Comedy of Errors, 
"1 have need of present money.'* But, if the worst comes 
to the worst, I have not forgotten the lines myself. 

Rosalind {indignantly). Daddy, you wouldn't dare act 
Romeo again, would you ? Remember the last time 

Forrest {with dignity). You refer to that brutal cow- 
boy with a lasso ? Another time will not find me so com- 
placent. Another such indignity to the drama and Td 
forget my poise and kill 

{Enter Tupper, c. Rosalind still at wash-stand, Forrest 
standing 7iear trunk, L.) 

Tupper. Say, the boss sent me up with this letter for 
the lady. And his nibs told me to put you wise. You 
don't get out of this town until you pay your bill. Sabe? 
( Comes down, l. ; picks up a brass crown from theatrical 
trunk,) Gee, I guess I'll hand these here diamonds over to 
the boss for security. ( Waves good-bye,) Olive oil. Oh, 
you chicken ! 

{^Exii, c.) 

Rosalind. Beast ! 

Forrest {laughing). Diamonds ! That crown cost two 
dollars and sixty cents. But open the letter, my dear. It 
may be from Fiske or the Schuberts. An engagement, per- 
haps. Mind you, not a cent less than five hundred a week 
to begin with, — not a cent less. 

Rosalind {opening letter and pulling out a ten- do liar 
bill). Gracious! Look, daddy ! It's money, — real money! 

{Moves L., toward Forrest.) 

Forrest [putting on spectacles and examining the bill). 
Yes, — that's money. I know it every time I see it. Ten 
dollars. Just as I thought, an advance fee. Our luck has 
changed. Read the letter. 

Rosalind {reading with difficulty), ''Dear Lady: I 
hear as how you and your father are down and out. I seen 
you act down at Sioux Landing, and I ain't had no peace 
of mind ever since. I ain't much used to women folks, but 
I think I know a lady when I sees one, and when you laid 
out that villain fellow I was ready to jump on the stage and 
finish the job. Just take this ten dollars and forget it, 



8 ROMEO OF THE RANCHO 

and if you want any more just call on yours truly, Lucky 
Lorimer." 

Forrest. Another one, eh ? Give me that letter. 
(JStands behind the trunk, lays it on the top and writes 
across it. Reads aloud.) ** No, thanks; there's none of 
that in my family.'* {Hands envelope to Rosalind.) Put 
that money back and send it to him at once. 

Rosalind (expostulating). But, daddy, we haven't a 
cent. 

Forrest (sublimely). Never mind, my dear ; you know 
Tve fought off a hundred fellows like this one already. 

Rosalind (stammering a little). But, daddy, I didn't 
mind so much sending the others off. It's different with 
Lucky. 

Forrest (blustering). What! You know him? Don't 
tell me you've got interested in this good-for-nothing cow- 
boy ! 

Rosalind (evading). But, father, what are we going 
to do ? 

Forrest. Do ? Why, — there are plenty of things to do. 
Look ! Here is the ring that Edwin Booth gave me when 
I played the ghost of Buckingham in Richard III. I re- 
member the lines. '* But cheer thy heart and be thou not 
dismayed. God and good angels fight on Richmond's 
side " 

Rosalind (horrified). Daddy, — you're not going to 
pawn the Booth ring, are you ? 

(She takes clothes off the line, drearily.) 

Forrest (apologetically). Just for a little time, my dear. 
Just to get money enough to go on to Leadville, where good 
fortune awaits us. 

(Enter Tupper, c, wearing crown on the side of his head,) 

TuppER. The boss says these here diamonds is made of 
ice. You've got to come over with the dough before one 
o'clock or he'll call in the sheriff. He says he ain't in the 
hotel business for bum actors, tramps and beggars, an' 

(Comes down L. toward Forrest.) 

Forrest {steaming 7vith rage). Bum actors ! Tramps ! 
Beggars ! Mansfield Forrest a beggar ! What are the lines 



ROMEO OF THE RANCHO Q 

of King John? *'I say there is no sin but to be rich/* 
Ha ! I may be everything else, but I've never committed 
the sin of being rich. Nor am 1 a beggar. Ye gods, the 
brute called us beggars, Rosalind. (Tupper retreatSy l. 
Forrest follows. Tupper moves r., behind Rosalind. 
Forrest follows.') Boy, did you ever hear of Hamlet, 
Love's Labor's Lost, Two Gentlemen of Verona, Henry the 
Sixth and Richard the Third ? 

Tupper {down c. ). N-N-N-N-No, sir. Friends of yourn ? 

Forrest (r.). Have you ever heard of Romeo and Juliet, 
The Comedy of Errors, Titus Andronicus, King Richard the 
Second ? 

Tupper (cojnlng down l., followed by Forrest). 
No-N-N-N-N-N-No, sir. 

Forrest {growing louder all the ti?ne). Have you ever 
heard of the Midsummer Night's Dream, Much Ado About 
Nothing, The Merchant of Venice, Troilus and Cressida ? 

Tupper {down l.). N-N-N-N-No, sir. 

Forrest. Then you never have heard of The Merchant 
of Venice, King John, Henry the Fourth, or the Merry 
Wives of Windsor ? 

Tupper {near trunk). Never, sir. 

Forrest. I thought as much. Nor have you heard of 
Julius Caesar, Macbeth, All's Well that Ends Well, Twelfth 
Night, The Taming of the Shrew, Othello, King Lear 
{roaring at Tupper), Anthony and Cleopatra, Timon of 
Athens, Coriolanus, Pericles, Cymbaline, The Tempest, The 
Winter's Tale, or King Henry the Eighth ? 

(Tupper cowers behind trunks scared to death by For- 
rest's tirade,) 

Tupper. N-N-N-N-N-N-No, sir. 

Forrest {triumphant ^ c. ; Tupper behind trunk, Rosa- 
lind watchitig fro7n wash-stand). Then you, — and the mis- 
erable despot you call your boss, you are the beggars, and 
I — 1 am — intellectually speaking — a millionaire. 

{As he says this he tur?is, throzvs up both arms and goes up 
stage ; his coat rips up the back from collar to waist as 
the result of his grajidiloquetit gesture. Exit, c.) 

Tupper {standing up and turning to Rosalind). Gee, 
he's a millionaire all right, but his millions has gone to his 
head. i^As though ivhispering a secret, moving r.) Say — 



10 ROMEO OF THE RANCHO 

Lucky Lorimer's down-stairs, waitin' for an answer from 
you. 

Rosalind {eagerly). Is he? What did he say? 

TUPPER. What did he say? Said he'd give me a hair 
cut with his six-shooter if I didn't bring the right sort of 
answer. 

Rosalind. Tell him to come right up. 

TupPER. Sure thing. {Sound of revolver shots outside 
and cowboy whoops,) There he comes now. Me for the 
tall timber. 

{^Exity c.) 

{Another cowboy whoop and Lucky Lorimer comes in, c, 
with a bound,) 

Rosalind {rushing to him, c, and graspifig him by both 
hands). Lucky ! Oh, how glad I am to see you ! 

Lucky. I saw the old man go out and I just couldn't 
wait no longer. Say, when are you goin' to chuck up this 
actin' business, Rosalind? 

{Both come down, c.) 

Rosalind. It's no use, Lucky. Father will never let 
me take a penny from any man. 

Lucky (wisely). I'm on. He needn't have been afraid 
of me, though. When a fellow's been through what I've 
.been through out on the prairie there he's got more respect 
for women than any of those city fellows. 

Rosalind {moving to trunk, l., and sitting on it, 
Lucky facing her near c). Father doesn't know that, 
Lucky. 

Lucky. I suppose not. He can't understand what a 
woman like you means to me. Came way out here in Okla- 
homa when they first opened up the tract. There was 
thousands of men waitin' to rush in when the government 
fired the cannon. I got on a train goin* forty miles an hour 
and told the conductor I was goin' to drop off when I came 
to the right place. *<Ten to one it'll kill ye," says he. 
*' I'll take the chance," says I, and I dropped. 

Rosalind. Oh, Lucky, you weren't hurt? 

Lucky. No, — that is, not much, — I only broke my right 
arm and sprained my knee. Doctor fellow came along and 
fixed it up, and I staked my claim to the prettiest piece of 
ground in all the prairie. Worth eighty thousand now 



ROMEO OF THE RANCHO H 

Rosalind. Eighty thousand ! 

Lucky. Yep ; but I wouldn't give eighty cents for it if I 
didn't know that you were going to come on down to the 
ranch and help me own it. {^Feels in his pockets.^ Say, 
the barkeep told me he hadn't seen any eats passin' up this 
way to-day, and so I got him to slip me these two sand- 
wiches and 

Rosalind ( grasping sandwiches and tearing off wrap- 
ping^. Lucky, you're an angel. 

Lucky (smilifig broadly). Angel ? That's the first time 
I ever heard that, — they mostly say as how I'm a lucky 
chap. Look here, Rosalind, 1 got a heap of business to 
tend to. I've followed this here company that your father 
calls a Shakespeare Aggregation clean two hundred miles 
from home. Them there cattle is sort of callin' me back, 
but I ain't goin' back without you. Will you come? 

Rosalind (^pointi?ig to sign announcing the Leadville 
opening in Romeo and Juliet). How can 1? Daddy's got 
his heart set on my being a tragedy queen. 

Lucky (disappointed). Are ye sure enough going all the 
way to Leadville? Ain't there no way I could go with 
you? 

Rosalind {rising in great excitement ). Oh, Lucky ! I 
have it. Have you ever been an actor ? 

Lucky. Only once. A circus came to our town when I 
was a boy, and I helped carry water for the elephants. 

Rosalind {laughing and shaking her finger at him). Do 
you think you could do Romeo? 

Lucky (rolling up sleeves). Sure. I'll do up any man 
that interferes with you. 

Rosalind (laying hand on his arm). Oh, not that. 
Don't you know who Romeo is? 

Lucky. Only Romeo I ever heard on was a gol darned 
greaser we strung up for horse steaHn' down on the Rio 
Grande. 

Rosalind (emphatically). Listen, Lucky. Romeo was 
a nobleman, who lived years and years ago. He loved 
Juliet, but their parents wouldn't let them marry. In the 
play I am Juliet. The actor who played my lover Romeo 
left a week ago. Father is looking for a new Romeo to-day. 
If I could only teach you the lines he might let you go 
with us. 

Lucky. Say, that's the limit. Me a play actor ? 



12 ROMEO OF THE RANCHO 

Rosalind. Certainly. 

Lucky. Well, — I may get shot for it, — but Fll do any- 
thing for you. 

Rosalind {etithusiastically). Lucky, you're a hero. 

Lucky. Don't say that until you see me dodgin' eggs 
behind the footlights. 

Rosalind {taking out Romeo* s cap, small sword and 
viantle from within the trtmJz), Here, put these on. 

Lucky {dubiously). Put them on ? ( Takes up mafitle 
and cap.) Look here, I ain't got to be one of them there 
female impersonators, have I? {Puts on cape, but holds cap 
with feather in ha?id.) I'll wear the shawl, but I'll be 
durned if I'll wear the Easter bonnet. 

Rosalind. It's a man's hat, really. (^Pleads.) For my 
sake. 

Lucky {capitulating). Oh, all right. Whatever you say 
goes. For your sake I'd almost be willing to wear a biled 
shirt and a silk hat. 

Rosalind (Jianding him the szaord). This is the sword 
with which you kill Tybalt in the play. You stab him and 
say: 

*^And thou, or I, must keep him company " 

Lucky {drawing six shooter). No, ye don't. If there's 
any killing to be done, I'm a heap handier with this. 

Rosalind {laughing). Nonsense, — come, learn your 
part. (^Takes up book a?id crosses r.) This is a love story 
a thousand years old. 

Lucky. Gee, I'd like to love you as long as that. 

{Tries to put his arm around 'Rosalind.) 

Rosalind {evading him). Lucky, you were born for the 
part. 

Lucky {innocently). Do you think so? 

Rosalind (demurely). I'm sure of it. Now say after me : 

*^ Lady, by yon blessed moon I vow ! " 

Lucky. Look here, — do I have to cuss in this here 
piece, — for if I do say it myself as shouldn't, I can use 
language when my dander's up. 

Rosalind (^soothingly). No, no, Lucky, — it's just the 
part. Now, say after me (^pointing to a picture o?i the wail) : 

''Lady, by yon blessed moon I vow." 



ROMEO OF THE RANCHO I3 

Lucky (^skeptically). But that ain't a moon. It's only 
a picture of Bill Bryan. (^Or some local fat man,) Looks 
like a moon, but it ain't. 

Rosalind (crossing l.). But it's only in the play, 
Lucky. You see, we're in a garden now. (Jumps on 
trunk. Lucky stands below, fiear c.) This trunk here is 
the balcony of my palace. You have come to beg me to be 
your wife. I say to you : 

** O for a falconer's voice 

To lure this tassel gentle back again ! 
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; 
Else would 1 tear the cave where Echo Ifes, 
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine 
With repetition of my Romeo's name." 

Lucky (with a broad smile). Go on — go on. I don't 
understand a gol darned thing you are talking about — but I 
love to hear you say it. Sounds like the thrushes singing in 
the magnolia trees in May. 

Rosalind. Perhaps you'll understand these lines. 
(Reads with deliberation and effect.) 

*< Sweet, good-night ! 
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath. 
May prove a beauteous flower when we next meet. 
Good-night ! Good -night ! As sweet repose and rest 
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast." 

Lucky (taking off hat and fumbling it as he listens, 
greatly absorbed). Golly, — that made me sort of feel like I 
used to when I heard my mother prayin' after she tucked me 
away in bed. All fired pretty, ain't it, about the bud of 
love growin' into a great big flower? That's what I need, 
flowers, -^a flower like you. My life has been mostly sage 
brush and prairie, and a flower means a hull lot more to me 
than if I was brought up in one of them conservatories I read 
about. 

Rosalind. But wait, that's not in the play ; you must 
say: 

'* O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ? " 

Lucky (throwing his arms around Rosalind, but reach- 
ing only her waist). But I don't want to say that. What 
I want to say is, ** Golly, how I love you," 



14 ROMEO OF THE RANCHO 

{^Enter Forrest at door at back centre. He comes in with 
his arms full of bundles y and as he sees Rosalind and 
Lucky, the bundles fly iii all directions, Rosalind 
descends from the trunk hastily. Lucky moves r.) 

Forrest {coming down c). Rosalind ! Sir ! 

Rosalind. Daddy, — it's our new Romeo — ain't he a fine 
one? 

Forrest {pacing up and dowfi the stage in a rage^ . Shades 
of Booth, Barrett and Macready, do you call that a Romeo? 

Lucky (standing in awe of the old mafi's rage). Yes, 
I'm a Romeo, but I ain't no horse thief. 

Forrest {turning r. toward him fiercely'). Ye gods, — 
what has Romeo to do with stealing horses ? 

Lucky {placating him). Well, you see, the last Romeo 
I met up with was down on the Rio Grande, an' 

Rosalind {shutting him up). Daddy, give him a chance. 

Forrest {turning l.). A chance to get killed. This is 
a Shakespearean Aggregation, — not a Wild West show. {To 
Lucky.) Give me a specimen of your ability, sir. 

Lucky. A what ? 

Forrest {impatie?itly). Do something, act something. 
The battle scene from Richard Third, the death of Richelieu, 
the Second Soliloquy from Hamlet, — things that any babe 
should know. Great heavens, do something. 

Rosalind {sotto voce to Lucky). He means recite. 

Lucky {with bashful mannerisms of a boy upon the plat- 
form). 

Under the spreading blacksmith tree 
The village chestnut stands. 

Forrest {tearing up and down with rage). The village 
blacksmith ! The village blacksmith ! 

Rosalind {sotto voce). Try something else. 
Lucky {anxious to pleas e^ but stage struck). 

Cannon to right of them. 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon in front of them 

Volleyed and thunder'd. 
Storm'd at with shot and shell 
Boldly they rode and well, 
Into the jaws of death, 
Into the mouth of hell 

Rode the six hundred. 



ROMEO OF THE RANCHO I5 

Forrest {who has been riishuig over the stage with his 
hands over his ears). Stop, stop, — stop. So you came 
here to make fun of me, did you? {Imperiously.) Leave 
my presence ! (^Comes dowfi l., picks up theatrical sword 
from the trunk.) Or else you must defend yourself. 

(Stads at trunk and the sword curls up like paper. ) 

Lucky {crossing l., quite himself again ^ and putting his 
hand upofi his shoulder). Look here, friend, I don't know 
much about this here Shakespeare Aggregation, but I've got 
a show of my own down in Oklahoma. 

(Rosalind moves r.) 

Forrest [scornfully). I can see that show. Hah I 
^ Lucky, I'll allow there ain't no better show of its kind in 
the hull United States. 

Forrest (incredulous and impatiefit). Well, what of it ? 

Lucky. I'm lookin' for a leadin' lady, and I've sort of 
made up my mind that I want your daughter for that part. 

Forrest (irritably). What are your references, sir? 

Lucky (handifig book). Here's my bank book. 

Forrest (reading). Lucky Lorimer. Blue River 
Ranch. Ninety thousand dollars. What does this mean ? 

Lucky (quietly). It means I want to make her my half 
partner for life. 

Forrest {dazed). But her great career? Leadville? 
I want her to play Romeo and Juliet ! 

Lucky (to Forrest). I'm just dead stuck on this Romeo 
and Juliet business, and if Rosalind's willing we'll go on 
playing it all.the rest of our lives. 

Rosalind (crossifig l. a?id standing between Lucky and 
Forrest, tmplori7ig her father for an answer). Daddy ? 

Forrest (hesitating a bit but finally smiling). I don't 
think you'll ever get a better engagement, Rosalind. 

Rosalind (in Lucky's arms^ c). Oh, Lucky, I'm so 
happy. 

Lucky. We'll sign up to-day. Where's a parson ? 



curtain 



Unusually Good Entertainments 

Read One or More of These Before Deciding on 
Your Next Program 

GRADUATION DAY AT WOOD HILL SCHOOL. 

An Entertainment in Two Acts, by Ward Macauley. For six 
males and four females, with several minor parts. Time of 
playing, two hours. Modern costumes. Simple interior scenes; 
may be presented in a hail without scenery. The unusual com- 
bination of a real "entertainment," including music, recitations, 
etc., with an interesting love story. The graduation exercises 
include short speeches, recitations, songs, funny interruptions, 
and a comical speech by a country school trustee. Price, 15 
cents. 

EXAMINATION DAY AT WOOD HILL SCHOOL. 

An Entertainment in One Act, by Ward Macauley. Eight male 
and six female characters, with minor parts. Plays one hour. 
Scene, an easy interior, or may be given without scenery. Cos- 
tumes, modern. Miss Marks, the teacher, refuses to marry a 
trustee, who threatens to discharge her. The examination in- 
cludes recitations and songs, and brings out many funny answers 
to questions. At the close Robert Coleman, an old lover, claims 
the teacher. Very easy and very effective. Price, 15 cents. 

BACK TO THE COUNTRY STORE. A Rural Enter- 
tainment in Three Acts, by Ward Macauley. For four male 
and five female characters, with some supers. Time, two hours. 
Two scenes, both easy interiors. Can be played effectively with- 
out scenery. Costumes, modern. All the principal parts are 
sure hits. Quigley Higginbotham, known as "Quig," a clerk in 
a country store, aspires to be a great author or singer and 
decides to try his fortunes in New York. The last scene is in 
Quig's home. He returns a failure but is offered a partnership 
in the country store. He pops the question in the midst of a 
surprise party given in his honor. Easy to do and very funny. 
Price, 15 cents. 

THE DISTRICT CONVENTION. A Farcical Sketch 
in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For eleven males and one 
female, or twelve males. Any number of other parts or super- 
numeraries may be added. Plays forty-five minutes. No special 
scenery is required, and the costumes and properties are all 
easy. The play shows an uproarious political nominating con- 
vention. The climax comes when a woman's rights cham- 
pion, captures the convention. There is a great chance to bur- 
lesque modern politics and to work in local gags. Every 
part will make a hit. Price, 15 cents. 

SI SLOCUM'S COUNTRY STORE. An Entertainment 
in One Act, by Frank Dumont. Eleven male and five female 
characters with supernumeraries. Several parts may be doubled. 
Plays one hour. Interior scene, or may be played without set 
scenery. Costumes, modern. The rehearsal for an entertain- 
ment in the village church gives plenty of opportunity for 
specialty work. A very jolly entertainment of the sort adapted 
to almost any place or occasion. Price, 15 cents. 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

PHILADELJPHIA 



Successful Plays for All Girls 

In Selecting Your Next Play Do Not Overlook This List 

YOUNG DOCTOR DEVINE, A Farce in Two Acts, 
by Mrs. E. J. H. Goodfellov/. One of the most popular 
plays for girls. For nine female characters. Time in 
playing, thirty minutes. Scenery, ordinary interior. Mod- 
ern costumes. Girls in a boarding-school, learning that a 
young doctor is coming to vaccinate all the pupils, eagerly con- 
sult each other as to the manner of fascinating the physician. 
When the doctor appears upon the scene the pupils discover that 
the physician is a female practitioner. Price, 15 cents. 

SISTER MASONS. A Burlesque In One Act, by Frank 
DuMONT. For eleven females. Time, thirty minutes. Costumes, 
fantastic gowns, or dominoes. Scene, interior. A grand expose 
of Masonry. Some women profess to learn the secrets of a 
Masonic lodge by hearing their husbands talk in their sleep, 
and they institute a similar organization. Price, 15 cents. 

A COMMANDING POSITION. A Farcical Enter- 
tainment, by Amelia Sanford. For seven female char- 
acters and ten or more other ladies and children. Time, one 
hour. Costumes, modern. Scenes, easy interiors and one street 
scene. Marian Young gets tired living with her aunt. Miss 
Skinflint. She decides to "attain a commanding position." 
Marian tries hospital nursing, college settlement work and 
school teaching, but decides to go back to housework. Price, 15 
cents. 

HOW A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET. A Comedy 
in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For ten female characters. 
Time, half an hour. Scene, an easy interior. Costumes, modern. 
Mabel Sweetly has just become engaged to Harold, but it's "the 
deepest kind of a secret." Before announcing it they must win 
the approval of Harold's uncle, now in Europe, or lose a possible 
ten thousand a year. At a tea Mabel meets her dearest friend. 
Maude sees Mabel has a secret, she coaxes and Mabel tells her. 
But Maude lets out the secret in a few minutes to another 
friend and so the secret travels. Price, 15 cents. 

THE OXFORD AFFAIR. A Comedy in Three Acts, 
by Josephine H. Cobb and Jennie E. Paine. For eight female 
characters. Plays one hour and three-quarters. Scenes, inter- 
iors at a seaside hotel. Costumes, modern. The action of the 
play is located at a summer resort. Alice Graham, in order to 
chaperon herself, poses as a widow, and Miss Oxford first claims 
her as a sister-in-law, then denounces her. The onerous duties 
of Miss Oxford, who attempts to serve as chaperon to Miss 
Howe and Miss Ashton in the face of many obstacles, furnish 
an evening of rare enjoyment. Price 15 cents. 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



The Power of 




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Expression and efficiency go hand in 

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Successful pubHc speaking 

Effective recitals 

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Efficiency in any undertaking 

Are these things w^orth while? 

They are all successfully taught at The National School of 
Elocution and Oratory, which during many years has de- 
veloped this power in hundreds of men and women. 

A catalogue giving full information as to how any of these 
accomplishments may be attained will be sent free on request. 

THE NATIONAL SCHOOL OF 
ELOCUTION AND ORATORY 

Parkway Building Philadelphia 



